Did I Do It For Love?
by scarathemouche
Summary: Gaz has a dream of notsosweet illusion. Is it the real life, or is it just fantasy? He's going slightly mad, but will this threaten his relationship with Scaramouche?
1. She'sAKillerQueen

Galileo Figaro was dreaming again.

It was dark, pitch black actually. In the inky darkness, he could just about make out a faint blue glow, a blurred image. As the scene in his dream became clearer, the image became focused – it was the infamous GlobalSoft logo. It had changed though, from its glory days, before the Dreamer and his band triumphed over KillerQueen and taken down the corporation. It seemed a duller blue than before, seemed to glow less. The screen it was displayed on was old - the image flickering and jumping, the monitor itself cracked and covered in scratches.

A figure moved at the side of the scene, hard to make out in the soft blue light until an old spotlight, second-rate to the ones used by the Bohemians at their many concerts, cut through the darkness and illuminated the person, crouched to the right of the screen. She was dressed in a garment that might have once have been considered posh and fashionable, but was now covered in dust and mud, creased beyond belief and ripped all over, patches of a dozen different colours covering the worst of the tears. It was the kind of outfit a Bohemian would have been proud of, but this was no Bohemian. Her hair had lost its volume and hung limply around her face, which was smudged with make-up, scars patterning her cheeks. She had lost her power and glory but, despite her scruffy image, she still had a sense of authority, still had that "sinister" look about her, especially in front of the old logo. She looked Bohemian, dressed Bohemian and could have almost passed for a Bohemian, but there was no mistaking that look in her eyes – a KillerQueen.

Galileo didn't like this at all. Dreams of anything other than music confused him, like they weren't supposed to exist in his mind. His brain wanted to wake up, to see Scaramouche sleeping beside him, but he didn't. His eyes refused to open.

He did see Scaramouche though. She was now facing the ruined KillerQueen, a classic 'Mouche scowl on her face. Galileo felt relieved; maybe this dream wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Scaramouche looked KillerQueen straight in the eye, any fear of her she might have had in her GaGa days no longer there. KillerQueen stood up properly and stared back, not with a glare as such, but more of a "WTF do you want?" look. Scaramouche was unfazed; she walked to the centre of the scene, which Galileo could now see was taking place on a stage, like one of their concert stages. Music began to build in the background, a familiar bass line Galileo recognised.

_Oh no, _He thought, _not GaGa rubbish._

It was. Last year's graduation song, played just before he had been arrested. But there were no GaGa kids to sing, just Scaramouche, and she wouldNEVER sing that "utter bollocks" as she had called it on more that one occasion. Her voice, strong and clear echoed around the near-empty stage, singing lyrics different to the GaGa babble Galileo had been forced to learn in all those "Music" classes in the weeks leading up to Graduation, not that he ever intended to perform it with all the rest of the GaGa clan.

_You__'__ve lost control, you have no power_

_We make our music by the hour_

_We don__'__t need your_

_Radio GaGa, Video GooGoo, Internet CaCa._

_We don__'__t want your_

_Cyberspace GaGa, Marketing BlahBlah_

_KillerQueen you__'__re through!_

_GlobalSoft, no-one here loves you._

Scaramouche finished her little outburst, her arm thrust out to her side, pointing accusingly at KillerQueen who seemed for once without a comeback. But she smiled. Then she laughed, loudly. Scaramouche looked confused, she hadn't meant to be funny, yet the former Queen of the VirtualWorld was hysterical, hooting her head off. She coughed loudly, attracting KillerQueen's attention.

KillerQueen spoke softly, a sense of menace in her voice, "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you not the comedian I ordered?"

Scaramouche looked mildly amused, but not in a good way, "That." she said simply, "Was not funny."

"But you were." KillerQueen began to roar with laughter again.

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, "She's mad, she gone bloody mad." Then added as an afterthought, more to herself than anyone else, "She never really was sane though, was she?"

KillerQueen's laughter ceased immediately and she instantly became serious, her voice laced with ice, "No, really love, you were horribly out of pitch."

"Oh was I, _love_. The word rhymes with pitch!" Scaramouche shouted, outraged. Ok, it hadn't been 100 perfect, but it was improvisation, and it sounded a hellova lot better that those GaGas with their clear, sweet soprano voices. She felt sick just thinking about them.

KillerQueen raised a finger menacingly, pointing at nothing in particular, "It will do you good to remember that even though I am, as you called it, 'through', I am still Dynamite With A Laser Beam!"

Scaramouche snorted and, using a phrase she had heard Meat say more than one, "Aye, whatever!" She stalked off the stage, missing KillerQueen's snap of her fingers.

Galileo shouted a warning, but this was a dream he could not control and no sound left his lips. A burning ray of laser light shot across the stage from a point somewhere behind KillerQueen, whose mouth was twisted into a smile of pure evil. Galileo tried to close his eyes to the scene he knew was about to unfold, but he was powerless and his lids remained fixed open. The path of the laser travelled off stage and met its target. He heard the cry and the sound of a body hit the floor.

He prayed this was the end, that he would wake up, but KillerQueen had turned her attention to something else. She was now looking straight at him. Galileo had felt safe in the knowledge that he was just an observer, a floating pair of eyes in the sky watching the scene from above, but apparently he featured in this dream too, and could be seen by everyone in it. He saw KillerQueen raise her hand, her fingers click, and the beam of red light shoot towards his eyes before…

"Gazza!!!!!!"

He was awake.


	2. Dreamer

**Anything you recognise (characters/lyrics etc.) isn't mine Comments/reviews much appreciated!**

**2.**

Galileo opened his eyes quickly; glad to awake from that horrible dream. The laser, however, did not disappear, and continued to burn into his mind. White spots popped in front of his eyes and his ears roared. _I__'__m dying, _he thought, _I__'__m bloody dying!_

Until a sharp smack round the face brought him back to reality.

His vision cleared to Scaramouche's face, scowling at him. "Personal space is very much appreciated, Gaz."

It was only then that Galileo realised that he was lying in the middle of their bed, arms flung out on either side of him. Scaramouche was sitting up, unable to lie down on the tiny space left for her. "S-sorry," he mumbled, scooting over to make room for Scaramouche to lie down next to him, "B-bad dream."

"I noticed." She replied, before yawning loudly. "You know, I don't think anyone in the Heartbreak could have not noticed. You made one hellova noise."

Galileo turned an unnatural shade of pink, "W-what do you mean?" He remembered the pain, the searing pain of the laser burning into his skull. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than his dream, but the laughing face of KillerQueen kept floating before his closed lids.

"Hellooooo!" Scaramouche was waving a hand in front of his face, "Earth to Gazza!"

"Ground control to Major Tom." He muttered, swatting her hand away.

"Yes, quite." She shook her head. "You were singing."

"What? When?" Galileo was confused, what had they been talking about? His mind had gone blank at the sight of KillerQueen inside his head.

Scaramouche rolled her eyes, "Last night. You. Dream. Singing. LOUDLY! Although I would have more surprised if you hadn't been singing."

Galileo remembered. "Oh, erm, yeah…" He paused, unsure of what to say, "What was I singing?"

"You're the one with all the words; you're supposed to remember them!" She sighed when she saw the slightly hurt look in his eyes, "I dunno, something about GlobalSoft being over or something, sounded like some GaGa beat to me, but y'know…"

Galileo looked up, "That was you singing." He said simply, looking at her closely.

"No sweetie, it was you. I heard it in my ear all night!" She put her arm across his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. "Anyway, never mind that, you're awake now, and we have our 'OneYearSinceWeDefeatedGlobalSoft" party tonight!"

"Our 'OneYearSinceWeDefeatedGlobalSoft" party?" He raised an eyebrow, but shuddered at the mention of the old Corporation.

Scaramouche didn't seem to notice and laughed, "Yeah, I know. The name's naff, Big Macca came up with it, and he's never been that creative…"

Meat, Britney and various other Bohemians were sitting around the Lounge Area of the Heartbreak, discussing party plans, when Gaz and Scaramouche walked in.

"Finally finished, eh?" Big Macca called from his chair.

Scaramouche scowled, "What're you talking about Paul?"

"That's Sir Paul to you, chick"

Scaramouche tensed, ready to knock his block off, but he carried on.

"You and Shagileo here, finished whatever you were doing… y'know…"

Scaramouche frowned at him, "Shut up you! How would you know anyway?"

"Weeeell, you could kinda hear a lot…"

"A lot of what exactly?" Galileo stepped in, knowing that whatever he had heard hadn't been… well… what he thought he'd heard.

"Shouting, moaning, banging, a lot of shouting 'Gazza' and…" Big Macca was interrupted by Scaramouche's shoe flying towards him, missing his head by mere centimetres.

"That wasn't… we werem't… it was…" Scaramouche didn't want to say that it had all been Gaz…

_He was dreaming again. Typical._

_Scaramouche tried to blot out his humming, she put a pillow over her head held it firmly over her ears, but he only became louder, singing now. Words, random words he was probably hearing inside his messed-up head. Sure, he was messed-up, but she loved him for it __–__ most of the time. She just wished he would __shut up__ for once. _

_When he finished his little outburst, sung in a slightly higher voice than usual, in a slightly more GaGa-ish way, she thought she would finally get some sleep. But noooo, he wasn__'__t finished yet. Scaramouche thought of waking him up now, telling him to be quiet or she would move rooms, but when she saw his sleeping face, deep in dreams, she didn__'__t have the heart to wake him. _

_She got quite a shock when he smacked her in the back. Not intentionally of course, he had just thrust his arm out in his sleep, pushing her out of the bed in the process. Banker._

_He was normally, singing and humming aside, a peaceful sleeper __–__ the kind of person who would go to sleep and wake up in the same position, but now, now he was writhing, shaking, his mouth shouting some silent warning to the person in his dream. His head twitched and he wailed loudly, almost crying like a baby, Scaramouche almost cried herself. It was horrible, terrifying to watch, but also a bit embarrassing. She shook him gently, but he didn__'__t wake, just kept shaking, more violently than before, the headboard of the bed now banging against the wall. Scaramouche bit her lip. _Shit, _she thought, _this sounds like…

_She dreaded what Paul and the others would say when they finally showed up to their unofficial party meeting, but could only concentrate on getting Galileo to wake up._

"_Gazza!__"__ She pressed her mouth up to his ear and shouted, __"__Gazza!__"_

_He seemed to wake for a moment, only to clutch his head and moan loudly in pain. Scaramouche had been trying hard to avoid physical violence, but she couldn__'__t help it, she was too__…__ worried about him. So she slapped him, hard, on his cheek. And he had woken up._

"It was nothing." She finished lamely.

"Ok, chick, what ever you say." Big Macca looked smug, until Scaramouche's other shoe hit him squarely in the face.

She glared at him, "Chick. Not appropriate or acceptable."


	3. Newcomer

3.

"I had a dream." Galileo announced to no-one in particular. The room, a small store cupboard off their main concert hall, was almost empty. He was sitting on a random wooden crate in one corner of the room, waiting for Britney and Big Macca to finish their childish argument discussion on the colour of balloons to have at their party.

"White and silver!" Britney demanded, his hands on his hips, a technique he must have borrowed from Meat.

"Eww, too GaGa!" Big Macca pulled a face, "Black and gold!"

Britney's voice showed his disagreement, "Too KillerQueen!" It was only then that he had realised that Galileo had spoken up. "What was that mate?"

Galileo wasn't listening. At the mention of KillerQueen, he had been thrown back into his dream world, the feeling of the laser burning into his mind returning. Britney saw him turn pale and his hands begin to shake.

"Mate!" Brit shouted, shaking Galileo's shoulder, "You OK?"

Galileo snapped out of his trance, the pain dulling. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Brit frowned, Gaz was acting weirder than usual, "You said 'I had a dream'."

"Did I?" Galileo looked bemused.

"So…?" Brit prompted.

"So, what?"

Brit sighed heavily, "'I had a dream', what?"

Galileo replied without thinking, "A dream of sweet illusion."

"Oh." Britney looked slightly dismayed, he had obviously been hoping Galileo had had some sort of musical breakthrough in his dream. "Great."

Big Macca picked this point to join the conversation. He slapped Galileo on the back, "Well done mate! We don't call you the Dreamer for nothing then, eh?"

Galileo shook his head, "No, no I didn't mean to say that!"

Big Macca humphed, "Why did you say it then?"

"I don't know!" Galileo snapped, "I never know, do I?"

Brit intervened, "Calm down, Gaz. What was your dream about then?"

Galileo took a deep breath, "Well, Scaramouche was there and so was KillerQueen. And they were…"

This was as far as he got before BigMacca interrupted, "I'll stop you right there, mate. I know exactly what you're going through!"

"Really?" Galileo looked puzzled but seemed mildly relieved that he was not, as he had first thought, going slightly mad.

Big Macca put an arm around his shoulders, "Yes, I do. You see Galileo, there comes a time in a man's life when he starts to wonder, and it's perfectly normal to have certain…" He paused, "Fantasies about one's chick. I mean, we all heard about how your Scaramouche was a lesbian. I wouldn't have put her with KillerQueen myself, maybe Meat…"

This statement earned him horrified looks from both Britney and Galileo.

"No! She wasn't… isn't… That's not what I dreamed about at all! I…" Gaz was unsure how to finish and left Brit to forcibly evict Big Macca from the room, exclaiming, "We are having black and gold balloons!"

Pop was not amused.

Ever since the broadcast of Galileo's triumph over KillerQueen through music, the Bohemian way of life had steadily become more popular. New groups GaGa kids converting every week, all seeking the rock-and-roll, "glamorous" Bohemian lifestyle. Well, that's what they had said at the time – most of the girls just wanted to meet Galileo, the boys Scaramouche.

It was the job of an older, more experienced Bohemian to help them out, show them around the Heartbreak, which had, since the downfall of GlobalSoft, relocated to above ground and expanded dramatically, and generally look out for them if they got into bother. No-one volunteered – at the time of the selection, MeatLoaf and Britney had disappeared, probably otherwise engaged, Galileo was declared too shy, and far too famous, and Scaramouche has point-blank refused, there was no arguing with that scowl, so the job had gone to Pop – the oldest and most experienced of them all.

It had been fun at first – telling all the GaGa's about the legend of the mighty Queen, showing them the old Vy-dayos and playing them pieces of ancient music the Bohemians had discovered. It was like the day he had first met the Dreamer and his Bad-Arsed chick Babe. But the job grew tedious, the wanabee Bohemians quite obviously had no idea what real music was, or what it was supposed to be, and many had clearly not done their research – one group of GaGa girls, who Scaramouche was convinced were Teen Queens, part of VirtualHigh elite group of CyberSluts, introduced themselves as the "Herb Girls."

_Pop, at the time, had resisted the urge to laugh, the __"__Herb Girls__"__, it had clearly been the __"__Sauce Girls.__"__ Scaramouche had taken great pleasure in bossing them around, rubbing their noses in it that __she__ was the RockQueen and they were just wanabees. She had also, because of their mistake in naming themselves, taken to calling them __"__Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme,__"__ four names that Galileo had seemingly come up with in one of his dreams, and proceeded to ask the girls if they were going to some sort of fair. _

_To which, one girl, foolishly in the presence of Scaramouche, replied, __"__I__'__ll go anywhere with you, Galileo.__"_

_This earned her a sharp slap from Scaramouche, who turned to Galileo and, to prove that he was quite clearly hers, pulled him into a massive snog, which received many wolf-whistles from on-looking Bohemians and looks of overwhelming jealously from the ex-GaGa Girls._

On this particular day, there had been only one new entry to the Heartbreak, a shifty looking character who called himself, "Keane." He had short, dark hair and dark brown eyes. Dressed from head to toe in black, he looked every bit the GlobalSoft spy, but Pop had learned in his time at the Heartbreak that appearances could be deceiving. Well, you would never guess that Britney was the self-employed cleaner and cook of the Hotel by looking at him.

Pop had given him the usual speech about the rock gods, the legendary instruments and the various Bohemians living in the Heartbreak and the building next door, named by Galileo as "TheHotelCalifornia." But, when he reached the part about Galileo and Scaramouche, Keane interrupted him.

"Yes, I want to meet Scaramouche. Where is she?"

Pop groaned silently, _Yup, another fanboy._ "You seem 'keane'" He joked, chuckling at his own humour. Keane did not seem to be amused.

Pop saw his face and coughed, "Erm, yes, 'Mouche, right. Well, there are a few things you need to know before you are introduced, Warnings actually." He smiled nervously, the newcomer was quite intimidating.

Keane raised an eyebrow, but did not smile back, "Go on…"

Pop cleared his throat, "Right, Warning Number One: She may be short but she can really smash your balls when she wants to. I'm talking from experience! Touch her guitar and she'll knock you out. Touch her Gaz and she'll knock you into the middle of next week! Warning Number Two: She Is usually found attached," He paused, his eyes searching the room for the sight he was about to describe, "to Gazza's face. Now, if this happens, it usually means they are about to clear off and 'do the fandango' so don't interrupt them. Your balls will suffer, I guarantee. Warning Number Three:…"

He was interrupted by a voice behind them, "Don't talk about her when she's standing behind you."

Pop jumped and almost wet himself with shock, "I-I was just telling erm, Keane about your erm, habits, and erm, please don't hurt me!" He threw his arms over his head comically.

Keane turned around to face the person who had spoken. She was short, with messy purple hair, heavy eyeliner and a scowl that could wipe the smile off of Mona Lisa, unmistakeably Scaramouche.

"I'm Keane." He extended his hand.

Scaramouche looked down at his hand but did not take it, "Scaramouche." She replied, "Or Scara. Or 'Mouche."

Pop had recovered and added unhelpfully, "Or Mouchey!"

Scaramouche rolled her eyes, "If you really feel the need to, yes Mouchey also."

"Or ScaryBush!" Pop was getting carried away, which earned him a glare from Scaramouche

"Don't push it." She said sternly before adding, "And no. I will not do the fandango, before you ask."

Keane shut his mouth with a snap.


	4. Yuppie?

_Forgot to mention this before. Britney Spears is alive in this fic for no particular reason, I just wanted him to be! Enjoy, reviews would be nice!_

-

4.

"Why the long face, hen?" Meat flopped down on one of the many sofas scattered around the party hall (which was, at Britney's demand, adorned with black and gold balloons.) Scaramouche was already sitting there, looking as moody as usual.

She only sighed heavily and continued to stare blankly at the table in front of them.

"Gaz no coming? Its practically his party, ah mean, he defeated GlobalSoft, didn't he?" Meat hadn't been able to find Galileo anywhere since the party had began, it wasn't like him to miss things like this. Well, not without Scaramouche anyway.

"I dunno." Scaramouche chewed her lip, "He said he was 'going out for a walk.'" She made bunny ears with her fingers to emphasise the statement.

Meat studied her friend carefully; Scaramouche seemed genuinely bummed that Gaz hadn't shown up yet. "Come on, hen." She took Scaramouche's hand and pulled her up off of the sofa, "Ah've got summat that might cheer ya up!"

Scaramouche groaned, but followed Meat through to the bedroom Brit and Meat shared.

It had seemed like a lame excuse at the time, but Galileo really was "out for a walk." He had been wandering around aimlessly for the better part of an hour trying to clear his head but, typically, he was having no luck in doing so.

He heard the crunch of a footstep behind him and whipped round, half hoping that Scaramouche had followed him out, but there was no-one in sight. He frowned, then shook his head vigorously, he was imagining things. Again. He turned back and kept on walking, kicking the odd rock out of the way as he went. Another footstep, sounded closer this time. Galileo didn't bother turning round, just kept his head down and quickened his pace, just in case the phantom footsteps were real. A twig cracked some feet away, Galileo's head instinctively snapped round to look in the direction of the noise. He felt his heartbeat quicken and his palms began to sweat – he would have felt a lot safer with Scaramouche by his side, even if he was imagining things.

A flash of silver to his right, a Yuppie? _Nah, _he told himself, _definitely __not__ a Yuppie. _Geez, this KillerQueen-dream thing was getting out of hand, seeing Yuppies… he laughed out loud, but his laugh stopped short: another flash of silver, passing right in front of him. He felt a sharp jab in the back of his neck, the pain overwhelmed him – the burning feeling of the laser returning again before he passed out.


	5. GoingSlightlyMad

_Nothing, except Keane, is mine. Enjoy._

_-_

5.

Galileo sniffed. Dust shot up his nose, making him cough and splutter loudly. He opened his eyes properly and found that he was lying in exactly the same place he fell. _Strange_, he thought. He had expected, if that really had been a Yuppie he had seen, to be in some sort of cell or hospital room – like on the day he had first met Scaramouche. He felt the back of his neck gingerly, but there was nothing there to suggest he'd been bugged, or even a wound to say he'd been attacked. The Yuppie, that could have been in his mind, but the pain had definitely been real. He stood up slowly and looked about, there was still no-one around. He absent-mindedly ruffled his hair while deciding what to do. Decision making wasn't one of his strong points; he usually relied on Scaramouche, or Britney to tell him what to do. He sighed deeply; he would just have to go back to the "party" at the Heartbreak, something he had, for some reason, a strange urge to avoid. Usually, at celebrations, he was forced into singing, something he didn't usually mind doing, but today he felt like it was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn't even think of any words to sing, and that was very unusual.

Despite his less-than-reliable brain telling him not to, he started to walk in the direction of the Heartbreak anyway, hoping he could just sneak in quietly and avoid any sort of performance.

"This was supposed to cheer me up?" Scaramouche stared, bewildered, into a full length mirror in Meat's bedroom. "You're kidding, right?"

"Ah think it looks really good on ye, hen!" Meat beamed, clearly pleased at herself.

Scaramouche was less than amused. Meat had dressed her in some sort of costume which accentuated all of the parts of her body she didn't like: hips, legs, stomach to name a few. The shorts weren't worthy of being called shorts, they were shorter than hotpants, more like a large belt around her hips than a piece of normal clothing. The top was another corsety thing, black with purple detailing, which stopped just below her breasts showing a little more tummy than she would have liked. It was strapless, and Scaramouche was convinced it would fall down as soon as she walked out of the door.

"Ah think this will stop Gaz 'goin' oot fer any mair walks!'" Meat admired her outfit, "Ah never really got around tae wearin' it…"

Scaramouche narrowed her eyes, "I look like a slut." She said bluntly. She saw the look on Meat's face and immediately felt guilty, "Not that you're a slut or anything…." She suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Meat only laughed, "Yer just nae used tae it, hen! Besides, ye look great!"

"And you're sure people won't laugh?" Scaramouche was as usual extremely self-conscious. She patted her pancake-flat stomach, "I don't look fat, do I?"

Meat rolled her eyes, "Dinna be stupid hen, yer thinner than I am!" She tapped her own, equally flat stomach, "Noo come on!"

She steered Scaramouche out of the bedroom and into the hall.

-

Their entrance was greeted by gasps and wolf-whistles by several of the Male Bohemians. Scaramouche immediately turned scarlet and started to walk quickly towards the bar, maybe a drink would make the shorts look longer.

Keane followed her to the bar. "Nice outfit," he commented.

Scaramouche looked at him pointedly, "Shut it you."

"I was only being nice, Scaramouche!" He held up his hands, but moved his face closer to hers and smiled, "Or should I call you, Sexytouche."

Scaramouche had to fight the urge to laugh, "That is probably the most embarrassing chat-up line I've heard in my life. And no, you shouldn't."

Keane's smile vanished instantly. Scaramouche flicked her head towards him, "Got the message yet, mate? I ain't interested."

He leaned closer still, and she was too annoyed to push him away. Before she knew what was happening, he had pulled her head towards his in a rough attempt at a kiss. His hand flew to her chest; hers flew to his face, slapping him off of her. "What do you think you're doing, jackass?!" She screeched, attracting the attention of many surrounding Bohemians. She gave him a scathing look when he didn't say anything before stalking off, her head low.

She obviously wasn't looking where she was going, because she walked straight into someone, someone sneaking in the main door, someone named Galileo Figaro.

"Gaz!" Her annoyance evaporated when she saw him.

"'Mouche." He said, noticeably less enthusiastic than she was. He noticed what she was wearing and snorted, loudly.

Her temper returned and she switched her smile for a glare, "Are you laughing at me, Gazza?!


	6. SomeParty

6.

"Yes." He replied. "You don't have the tits for that corset."

A round of gasps came from the surrounding crowd of Bohemians, including Meat, Britney and Pop. "What's got in tae you Gaz? Ye dinna talk tae a lassie like that!"

Scaramouche was breathing heavily, trying very hard to keep her temper under control. She spoke quietly, "No Meat, he's right."

Gaz gave a hoot of triumph, "Ha! Yes I am… wait, what?" He was confused, Scaramouche never usually accepted insults without an argument.

"You're right, I don't. Where can I get a nice pair like yours?" She asked, in all seriousness, keeping a smile off her face.

Galileo looked smug for a moment before his slower-than- average brain realised that her comment had, in fact, been an insult. "Oi! I do not have…"

He was interrupted by Pop. "I wouldn't argue Gaz." He turned to Keane, who was also watching the argument, but was noticeably less confident than he had been before his encounter with Scaramouche, "Warning Number Four was: Watch out for the MIghtyMouche. She's got quite a sharp tongue in her head and can scream the place down if you say the wrong thing."

Galileo ignored this piece of information, said by Pop louder than he had intended. "What made you want to wear that anyway, you look like a slut."

Scaramouche looked pointedly at Meat, who opened her mouth to say something, but Galileo continued, "And it really doesn't suit you, you're getting a little too large for shorts like those."

Scaramouche put her hands on her hips. Her face, shocked and confused at why Gaz was acting so strangely, returned to her most comfortable expression of permanentlyPissedOff. "Excuse me? Are you calling me fat, Gazza?"

"Yeh. You've got a bit of a tummy there." he patted his own stomach, "And your legs are getting a little stumpy."

_Cheeky git._ Scaramouche thought, _He must be joking, Gaz never speaks like this._

"Quit pissing around, Gaz!" Scaramouche was getting redder by the second, a sure sign of her temper increasing.

Galileo was looking the complete opposite, cool and calm, he seemed to be taking enjoyment in watching her growing more and more pissed off. "I ain't pissing anyone around, it's all true, after all. Fat Bottomed Girl would have been a better name for you; I should have chosen that one."

Scaramouche snapped. She had been working hard to avoid using physical violence towards Gaz, no matter how annoying he could be, but she couldn't stop herself and smacked him. Hard, across the face.

"You bitch." He spat, his cheek glowing red where her hand had struck.

"Yep, that's me." Scaramouche snapped, "Bitch anonymous."

"I don't know why I ever liked you in the first place, why I tried to get you to like me. I don't know why I ever loved you 'cos I sure as hell don't anymore!" Galileo's voice raised an octave, but his face remained angry, meaning every word.

_He__'__s lying, _Scaramouche told herself, over and over in her head, _He wouldn__'__t mean that._

She drew herself up to her full height, which still only brought her up to Gaz's chin. God she hated being short sometimes… "You, Galileo Figaro…" She said, using his full name for the first time in a whole year, "Are a bastard. And you know what?" She sighed sharply and looked him straight in the eye, "I don't love you either."

It was lies. She hadn't stopped loving him since that day, that night in the van. She loved him more than she had anything, or anyone else, not even her parents. But he was saying things he didn't mean, so she did as well. He didn't mean it, he didn't.

It was only when his fist connected with the side of her head and pain exploded in her cheek that she thought, maybe he had meant it after all.


	7. HazyMinds

7.

Her memories of what had happened after that were hazy.

_Meat had to be restrained, by Britney, from launching herself at Galileo screaming, __"__Lemme at __'__im, the wee bugger!__"_

_Galileo had left, almost taking the door off of its hinges, he slammed it so hard. Very un-Gaz-ish, but then again, he hadn__'__t been acting very Gaz-ish at all._

And so it had come to this. Scaramouche was lying, humiliated, on the double bed she and Gaz shared used to share, a bag of frozen peas over her left eye, giving the patch of wall directly ahead of her the dirtiest look possible. Meat had said, between curses, that the peas would help the swelling go down. Scaramouche couldn't feel pain anymore, the peas had made her face numb. Her whole body was numb; she couldn't believe what Galileo had said, done. If this was his idea of a joke, it wasn't very funny at all.

She hadn't spoken to anyone since the party, _Ha, some party!._

Galileo was wandering again. It had been two hours since he had stormed out of the Heartbreak and he was exhausted. He had no idea how far he had walked, just kept his head down and continued in the same direction, but he wasn't even sure which direction that was. His head burned, his mind swam and his right hand throbbed.

He flopped down on a grassy patch. It was already dark, only the dim street lights providing a light source, so he couldn't see exactly where he was. He knew it was dangerous, especially with his "famous" stamp, being in the middle of nowhere, in the pitch dark by himself, but he was too angry, annoyed and generally pissed off at everything to care.

He lay back and stared at the dark night sky, tiny stars winking back at him. He tried to stay awake, with fear of last night's dream returning, hoping to avoid another, but his eyes were heavy and he was forced into unconsciousness.


	8. WhatTheHellAreWeFightingFor?

8.

Galileo stumbled through the front door of the Heartbreak at about Seven o'clock the next morning. He had awoken, lost and confused, about five miles from the Hotel. The previous night's sleep had been dreamless, as far as he could remember, but unfortunately, his memory of the party was also completely blank. He couldn't remember even being there, only that he had gone for a walk to clear his head before going. The knuckles of his right hand were bruised, as if he had punched something, or someone, but he had no memory of doing either.

He made his way to the bedroom, passing through the concert/party hall. It was almost empty, except for a small group of Bohemians, huddled around a table in a corner; they had obviously been up all night. Galileo nodded to them when he passed, recognising them all a little by sight. The Bohemians did not return the nod. Instead, one shot a filthy look in his direction, one muttered, "Bastard." under his breath and the third spat into the empty glass that sat in front of him. Galileo backed off quickly, slightly worried by their reaction – he had always considered himself rather likeable. Well, Scaramouche had liked him on first impressions, sort of, and she took a long time to like and trust people properly. He couldn't understand why they were acting so meanly towards him, he was their hero, their Dreamer! He figured they were just drunk and confused, and didn't think anymore of it.

Gaz shuffled the remainder of the hall, kicking deflated balloons, party poppers, streamers and empty drink bottles out of the way – he hoped that he wouldn't be the one to clear all the rubbish away, the Bohemian celebrations tended to be messy and the nomination of cleaner the next day was always a lengthy argument discussion. He entered the corridor that led to his (and Scaramouche's) bedroom, along with many others. When he reached their door, he knocked softly, "'mouche?"

When there was no reply, he opened the door anyway. Scaramouche was lying, her back to him, on their bed, sleeping. He made his way over to the bed, nearly falling flat on his face after tripping over one of Scaramouche's boots left lying, in typical Scaramouche fashion, in the middle of the floor.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaned over and gently stroked her hair.

Scaramouche felt the weight in the bed shift and awoke. She sensed Gaz behind her, "Piss off, Gaz."

Galileo was taken aback, "That's not very nice!"

She snorted, "Oh yer, 'cos you're the nicest person ever."

"Well, I admit, I have my faults but…" He started, but was interrupted.

"Shut up and get out, I don't want to talk to you." Scaramouche said dully.

"_What the hell are we fighting for?__"_ He sang softly.

Scaramouche didn't bother to keep her voice down, "We are fighting because you are an arrogant, insensitive, two-faced little git with a bloody sore right hook." She remained lying where she was, couldn't even bring herself to look at him.

Galileo was stunned; he had never been so insulted in his life. _She must be joking, _he thought, _yeah, that__'__s it, joking!_

He carried on anyway, "_Just surrender and it won__'__t hurt at all.__"_

Again, the reply came back sharp and sarcastic, "As long as it hurts less than my face, bring it on!"

He chose to ignore this also, and opened his mouth to continue, but Scaramouche carried on, "You better say your prayers Gaz, 'cos the hammer, rather, this bag of peas, is about to knock your head off!"

Confused, Galileo paused. _A bag of peas, what bag of peas?_

It was then that Scaramouche chose to get up and throw, with impressive force, the now un-frozen bag of peas that Meat had given her at Galileo's head. She missed, luckily for him, and it struck the door, leaving a dent.

"Your aim's terrible." He joked.

"I wasn't aiming for you anyway; I don't get a kick out of hurting people on purpose." She looked pointedly at him.

Galileo saw her face and felt sick.

The entire left side of her face was puffy and swollen; an angry red mark covered her cheek. The black make-up she had been too hysterical to take off the night before was smeared down her face, mingling with the purple bruise that had developed overnight so it was hard to tell what was eyeliner and what was bruise. Her eyes were also puffy, she had obviously been crying – not very Mouchey, something was seriously wrong.

"What happened to your face?" Gaz croaked, horrified.

Scaramouche narrowed her eyes, then winced as the movement stung her cheek. "What happened? You happened! Don't play dumb, Gaz, it doesn't work with me!"

Galileo wrinkled his brow in a way Scaramouche might have considered cute if she hadn't been so mad at him, "Me? I didn't…"

She cut him off, "You did. And don't say you don't remember!"

"I don't remember…" He said, ignoring Scaramouche's mutter of, '_I told you not to say that!_'

"What? The fact that you decided to gimme a good whack got lost in the huge empty space between your ears where your brain's supposed to be?!" Scaramouche was outraged, he couldn't just act like a total bastard and then claim to have "forgotten!"

Galileo felt like crying. His hand had hurt last night, but he would never hurt Scaramouche, not on purpose anyway. He sniffed, loudly.

"Oh don't be such a baby! I'm the one with the buggered-up face!" Came Scaramouche's less-than-sympathetic reply.

Gaz stepped around the bed and stood facing her. He brought his arm up to touch her blotchy cheek, but she knocked his hand away. "'Mouche…"

"Get out. I don't want to talk to you anymore…" She looked at the floor.

"I…" He felt horrible; she wouldn't even speak to him.

"Get out Gaz. Just go."

He walked slowly to the door, looked back at her once more. She avoided his gaze, kept staring at the floor, her tangled hair covering her face. He closed the door gently behind him and she burst into tears.


	9. KillerQueenIsNotMyLover

**Here's the next part. Again, original plot, characters and music references aren't mine. Please R&R, constructive criticism is appreciated x**

8.

Galileo walked silently through to the lounge area. MeatLoaf was sprawled across a large squashy sofa, not really watching the TV, more just staring absently at it. She saw him come in and glared.

"You gonna have a pop at me too?" Galileo sighed.

"How dare ye, ye ungrateful wee git!" Meat stormed over to him and slapped him across the cheek. "How could ye?"

"I don't…" He began, but she smacked him again, clearly not impressed by his attempt to defend himself.

Britney came through the door and saw Galileo, who gave him a small smile. Brit did not smile back.

"Wid ye like tae explain yersel'?" Meat fumed, "Scaramouche wis beside hersel' last night!" She launched herself at him, whacking him across the chest, head and arms.

"Brit, control your woman!" He held up him arms to protect himself.

"I've a good mind to hit you myself." Brit didn't, but sat down heavily on said squashy sofa. Meat stopping hitting Galileo and flopped down next to him, he continued, "You should never disrespect your baby." He put a protective arm around Meat; worried Galileo would punch her next.

Galileo collapsed onto an armchair next to the sofa. "I don't remember doing anything last night. Would someone please tell me what happened?" He held his head in his hands, "Everyone's pissed off at me, Scaramouche won't talk to me, I don't know what to do!"

Meat raised an eyebrow, "Ye dinna remember? A likely story!"

But Britney looked concerned, "You really don't remember?"

Galileo shook his head, "Please?"

Britney relayed the events of the previous night to him, Meat jumping in with a comment every few sentences – the argument, how Scaramouche had slapped him, how he had hit her back…

"I…" He was horrified at himself, he was sure he hadn't said any of the things they said he had. "I'm sorry, I guess."

"It's no us ye should be apologising tae!" Meat nodded towards the doorway.

Scaramouche was slouched against the doorframe. Her face was still noticeably swollen, but she had wiped her smudged make-up off and re-applied it to cover some of the bruising. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, but less tangled than it had been.

"I… I hit you in the face." Gaz said dumbly.

Scaramouche humphed, "No shit, Sherlock."

Galileo closed his eyes, stung, but continued, "I-I'm sorry."

"Really?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Yes." He said, sincerely enough.

"I don't care." She spat.

His jaw dropped, "B-but…"

"B-b-b-b-but nothing." She mimicked, less enthusiastically than she would have normally. "Go play with your new best friend."

Confused, Galileo blinked, "Who?"

"Um, KillerQueen. You've been dreaming about her an awful lot haven't you?" Scaramouche scowled at him.

"H-how do you know that?"

She nodded at Meat, who suddenly found her shoes very interesting.

"Brit!" Galileo whined, at the same time that Britney sighed, "Meat!" Both of them clearly told not to pass the information about Galileo's dream onto anyone else.

"Listen, KillerQueen is not my lover!" He sang, quite unexpectedly.

Scaramouche's eyes widened, "_Lover?!__"_

Galileo flushed, "N-no, I didn't mean to say that! That was…"

Brit interrupted, "I think the correct line is, 'Billie Jean', mate."

"Um, yeah…" Gaz shrugged, his random outbursts were annoying, but never usually this awkward.

"Whatever." Scaramouche said quickly, then added, "Not that I would care whether she was or not."

Meat snorted, "Aye, ok hen!"

Scaramouche turned her scowl on her, Galileo hung his head. "I hate fighting with you…"

"Could have fooled me. A slagging match in the middle of our party, but yeah, hates fighting!" She rolled her eyes.

"But you're my baby! I love you!" He was getting emotional, his stutter would return anytime soon.

"Oh, now you love me. Strange, last night I was under the impression that you 'sure as hell don't anymore'!"

"I-I didn't s-say t-that." Yup, there was his stutter.

"Yes, you did."

"I-I didn't mean it." He wailed. He had never seen her so upset before. He wanted to run over and hug her, tell her that it wasn't him last night, wasn't him that hit her, but she would just shake him off, slap him, tell him to get lost, and he didn't want that either.

"Yeah, that's what I thought at first." Her voice was emotionless, disconnected from her brain. "Then you smacked me in the face and I knew that you did." Her voice cracked as she spoke, she brushed her eye with the back of her hand quickly, wiping away the tear that had formed there.

Galileo hated seeing her like this, he decided he would try to comfort her, whether she liked it or not. He walked over and put his arms around her, pulling her close.

She didn't reject him, but fidgeted in his grasp, didn't hug him back, didn't look at him either. Galileo stroked her hair, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She felt cold, distant, not her usual self at all.

She brushed his hand away, but not harshly. She looked at him and gave him a small, could-be smile, but turned and walked back into the darkness of the hall without a word.

"Just give it time, mate. She still loves ya, she just doesn't want to admit it, to you or herself." Brit laid a hand on Gazza's shoulder.

He smiled weakly, "I hope so."


End file.
